*ficspam*
Title: Till Ludlow tower is down
Summary: It's not Red Hood that means he can't go home again. It's the scar on his neck that means he won't.
Author's Notes: fickle_goddess accidentally gave me a plotbunny. Still, don't blame her, she is but an innocent victim.
Title from this poem.
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters described herein; DC has all.
He likes his guns almost as much as he likes his rockets, but there are times he misses the 'rangs.
Sometimes he curses and gets surprised when nobody tells him "Language, Jason," so he'd have a fucking *excuse* to grin and curse again louder.
He even misses that shitty decaffeinated coffee Alfred gave him after patrol. And the tea with milk in it.
He doesn't think to himself, "I'm gonna head home after this bust," because home is never whatever grimy city he's in *this* time.
Sometimes he thinks of Talia when he thinks home. Sometimes he thinks Crime Alley.
Mostly he thinks Bruce.
Whenever he misses his Gotham, he chugs down soda or cheap beer or energy drinks and swears in every language Talia tried to teach him and double-checks that all the guns are loaded.
Then he rests two fingers on the scar Bruce left on his throat, just for a second, just to tell himself, "This is what you'd go home to," and he pulls Red Hood's helmet back on.
-- Finis
Summary: It's not Red Hood that means he can't go home again. It's the scar on his neck that means he won't.
Author's Notes: fickle_goddess accidentally gave me a plotbunny. Still, don't blame her, she is but an innocent victim.
Title from this poem.
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters described herein; DC has all.
He likes his guns almost as much as he likes his rockets, but there are times he misses the 'rangs.
Sometimes he curses and gets surprised when nobody tells him "Language, Jason," so he'd have a fucking *excuse* to grin and curse again louder.
He even misses that shitty decaffeinated coffee Alfred gave him after patrol. And the tea with milk in it.
He doesn't think to himself, "I'm gonna head home after this bust," because home is never whatever grimy city he's in *this* time.
Sometimes he thinks of Talia when he thinks home. Sometimes he thinks Crime Alley.
Mostly he thinks Bruce.
Whenever he misses his Gotham, he chugs down soda or cheap beer or energy drinks and swears in every language Talia tried to teach him and double-checks that all the guns are loaded.
Then he rests two fingers on the scar Bruce left on his throat, just for a second, just to tell himself, "This is what you'd go home to," and he pulls Red Hood's helmet back on.
-- Finis